So I had actually started making a piece. I was making this giant 50-year calendar thingie, but I was struggling with the technical realities of maki… - Ayobola Kekere-Ekun

Sometimes I think about pieces for months or years before I actually do anything about them. But once the idea is resolved, then I get to my favourite part, which is the planning. And that's basically where I decide everything about the physicality of the work. Colours, what papers to use, grammage fabrics, texture, what details need to come in, what tools, what materials. And then I start building what I call the skeleton, which is the initial outline. The first layer of colours, outlines for figures, that sort of thing. And if I am not excited about the skeleton, I don't continue. It's not gonna go well. Fortunately, that doesn't happen very often, because it's kind of sad when it does. But I've also learned the hard way there's no point forcing the work. It’s a waste of time, and it does a disservice to me and the work really. It's unkind to try to force something to be.

I'm curious what she would make of the world now. I mean, considering the British Empire's history and whatnot. Also, I just find her interesting as an individual. So it would be two for the price of one.

I dream about them. And I just wonder if they're fine. And if they're happy and well. There's always a sadness when you let work go. But it's something I also had to make peace with early on, because I knew I wanted to have certain conversations with my work. It's counterproductive to only talk to yourself about certain things, the conversation has to go beyond me. You can't engage people if you're not going to talk to them. You have to let the work go because, at some point, it's kind of cruel. When the work is done, they become beings in their own right. And I don't think I would want to be trapped with my maker for my entire life.